


A History Lesson

by LittleMissWolfie



Series: Generation of Miracles: Hogwarts AU [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aomine is woefully uneducated, Dementors, Harry is as awesome as usual, Harry teaches a class of History of Magic, Kuroko is a precious cinnamon roll that needs to be protected, mentions of Ron and Hermione, might be kinda triggering, reference to past death/torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissWolfie/pseuds/LittleMissWolfie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aomine never realized just how little he knew about Kuroko until some guy named Harry Potter took over History of Magic for a day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A History Lesson

Aomine yawns as he, Kuroko, Akashi, and Murasakibara trudge up the stairs to the History of Magic classroom. It’s the third week of school, and he’s still not over the fact that their teacher, while being a ghost, is the most boring individual on the planet. “Why do we even need to learn this stuff?” he’d complained after their first lesson.

 

“It’s like studying Muggle history in elementary school,” Kuroko had answered. “Yes, it may be boring, but learning from the past is important to avoiding the same problems in the future. We only have to take it through fifth year.”

 

The four of them settle into their seats, watching behind them as the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin students file in. Most of them are in the same sleepy boat as Aomine. Having one of the most boring classes in the curriculum be second hour is not one of school’s best ideas ever, Aomine thinks, stifling back another yawn.

 

It’s not until almost five minutes after the class officially starts that Professor Binns starts talking in his monotone voice. “Today we are going to learn about the Second Wizarding War. Headmistress McGonagall has suggested a guest speaker for the occasion. I am sure most of you will recognize him.”

 

The door at the back of the classroom suddenly opens, and every student swivels in their seat to gape at the man with black hair and green eyes standing in the doorway.

 

The class erupts, and Aomine actually covers his ears to protect himself from the noise. “What’re they yelling about, Tetsu?” he asks.

 

It’s Akashi who answers, “That, Daiki, is Harry Potter.”

 

“Harry Potter” strides up to the desk with an ease that must come from being an adult. Now that he is closer, Aomine can see a scar under his bangs, a jagged shape that reminds him of a bolt of lightning. “Hello!” he says in an easy, kind voice. “My name, for those Muggle borns out there who didn’t have friends like mine, is Harry Potter. I went to school here...about seven years ago, right, Professor?” When Binns just huffs, Harry Potter turns back to the class. “Right, my seventh year was technically ‘97 through ‘98, and it’s 2005. About seven years.” He leans over the desk and cups his hands over his mouth. “To tell you the truth, Professor Binns didn’t want me to come in today. He hasn’t changed his lesson plans since he died.”

 

The class titters with laughter. Aomine is still very confused. Who is this guy, and why is he so important?

 

“Anyway,” Harry Potter continues, “who in here has not heard of the Second Wizarding War?” Several hands, Aomine’s included, raise in the air. “Well, before we discuss the Second Wizarding War, we obviously have to discuss the first.” Harry Potter pulls a wand from his billowing robe and waves it at the chalkboard. White dates appear on the green surface. “It lasted from 1970 to 1981, and it was, in simplest terms that most of you Muggle borns should understand, a wizarding Holocaust.”

 

The class continues this way for three-fourths of the hour, and, Aomine has to admit, it is much more interesting than any of Professor Binns’s lectures. However, he also notices Kuroko’s stiff posture, and the glassy look in his eye that is hardly ever there anymore.

 

Near the end of the hour, Harry Potter says, “Who in here has been personally affected by Voldemort’s reign?”

 

And Kuroko’s hand goes up. His is the only hand in the room. Aomine hears Akashi’s sharp inhale, and the crunching sounds from Murasakibara’s direction stop.

 

Harry Potter’s eyes lock in on him immediately, and he says, “May I ask what happened?”

 

Kuroko takes a deep, shuddering breath. “My mother was a Muggle. When I was three, some of Lord Voldemort’s Japanese Death Eaters found our home, and they—they brought Dementors. My grandmother, she hid me in a closet so they wouldn’t find me, but I could see everything. When—when the Dementors were finished, one of the Death Eaters said something, and all I could see was green. And, and when the green was gone, so were they, except my parents and my grandmother were lying on the ground. I stayed in the closet until the Aurors came, and I was sent to an orphanage for Wizarding children.”

 

Harry Potter, who had slowly gotten closer to Kuroko’s desk as he spoke, kneels next to his chair. Very quietly, he says, “I am very, very sorry. What is your name?”

 

“Tetsuya Kuroko, sir. My father was Takumi Kuroko, my mother was Masumi, and my grandmother was Uma.”

 

Harry Potter nods. “I saw their names on the casualty list. I had no idea they had a son.”

 

“Most people didn’t, sir. They didn’t want word getting out that I was a half-blood.”

 

“Have you seen the Thestrals?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Do you know how to cast a Patronus charm?”

 

“No, sir. That is very advanced magic.”

 

Harry Potter claps a hand on Kuroko’s shoulder. “You would do well to learn it in the future. Even if you never need it, it will give you some comfort.” He uses Kuroko as a balance to stand and dusts off his robes. “If you ever need anything, feel free to owl me.”

 

Kuroko nods.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning at breakfast, a quiet Kuroko receives a parcel wrapped in brown paper from a snowy white owl. He opens it slowly, and refuses to let anyone else see it. Later that night, when Aomine snoops in his trunk, he finds out that it is a pair of books: one on the theory of the Patronus charm, which he still knows nothing about, and an album filled with moving pictures of a man with black hair and Kuroko’s nose and a woman with his hair.

 

 


End file.
